Routine
by CriesofCapricorn
Summary: Angel. Spike. And a weekly routine. Mild, implied slash. Humor.


Angel. Spike. And a weekly routine. Can be considered mild slash. It's really up to the reader. Please feel free to post reviews whether they are complimentary or critical.

* * *

"Hey! Watch where ya point that thing!"

"Stop being a baby, Spike."

"Not being a baby! Just don't trust you."

"Come on! We've done this plenty of times before. You should be used to it by now."

"Okay, that's it, mate! I command you to stop right there. Don't move a bleedin' centimeter toward me, understand?"

"You're so damn childish."

"I mean it!" Spike begins to dodge Angel in all ways possible.

"Spike, be reasonable. First of all, it's regular routine. And, secondly, I'd never do anything to hurt you because I know you'd then take your revenge when it's _my_ turn ... thus, I won't do you any harm to you. Promise," Angel swears.

"Nah-uh... not on your best day will I let you come near me with that."

"Stand still!"

Angel moves onward, Spike regresses. And before you know it, the two are in the brawl of their lives, literally. Punches to the left, kicks to the right ... it's not pretty.

A gentle, familiar voice. "Uh, guys?"

It is recognized by the two, and both vampires (Angel who is currently on top of Spike, with his arm pulled back, ready to fire another potent punch) look up at the direction from which the voice came from.

"Don't mean to pry on y'all fellows, but you've been making a bunch a racket. And it sorta drew my attention. Everything all right here, boys?" Fred questions, with sincerity.

"Yes!" both Angel and Spike reply in union.

"Well, it's just that ... y'all don't _look_ fine."

"What do ya mean by that, love?"

"Well, Angel your shirt has a whole bunch of white blotches on it and Spike, your face is covered in ... um ... is that shaving cream?"

Angel looks down at his black button-down shirt. "Oh, crap! Thanks a lot, Spike, you got my new shirt filthy!"

"It's not my fault!"

"Is too!"

Fred interrupts, "Seriously, guys, what's going on?"

Angel responds, "We were supposed shave each other's beards. Except, Spike here, was being incompliant."

"Well, don't grown men such as yourselves know how to do that by themselves ... I mean, we got plenty of mirrors here ..." she received a 'duh' stare from both vampires, "Oh, right, no reflections. Sorry, I forgot."

"We used to do this all the time centuries ago. I don't know what got into him, Fred," Angel explains.

"I'll tell you what got into me: sense. You think I'll let come near my handsome face, if I must say so myself, with a razor. You'll butcher me right up!"

Angel groans. "I will not butcher - ,"he begins to tell him. But he then directs the next statement to Fred, outraged, "Can you believe him!?"

"Aww... my poor guys. Listen, to lessen both your grief, anytime you need a shave, you can come to me and I'll give you each a nice, clean one..." Fred offers, and then realizes, "Oh okay, that didn't sound right." She blushes.

Both the vampires smile at her.

"Well, you know what I meant. So, yeah, that's the offer."

"Oh, bless you, child!" Angel approaches her and envelopes her small form into an embrace with his strong arms.

No sooner than Angel releases her from the hug, Spike runs over to her side doing the same. "Oh, you are my new bloody Savior. You're my personal Jesus Christ, fabulous Fred."

"Okay... thanks..." she mutters, nervously.

He lets go and she glances down to discover shaving cream on her bare right shoulder and cheek.

"Oh, sorry, love," Spike puts his hand forward and tries to remove the shaving cream.

"No, it's okay. But I've gotta go wash this off. Now, boys, no fighting; be good. Behave!" she extends her index finger to demonstrate seriousness and authority.

"Will do."

She exits the room.

Spike sighs, and looks to Angel. "Guess I won't be seeing you around, then, seeing as we've cancelled all future appointments such as these."

"Yep, that's right."

Spike begins to head toward the exit door, but stops. He rotates to face Angel. "Look, I didn't mean what I said before – not entirely, at least. So, I mean, when ever Fred's busy or something, and I'm all stubby, I'll just come ..."

"Yeah?" Angel awaits the answer, with hopefulness in his tone.

"Well, I'll just come on over to Charlie's office right next door," he smirks, pleasured in the trickery he just caused. He laughs as he leaves the scene.

Angel releases a low chuckle, beginning with amusement, but ending in a pained, agitated, sigh. "Oh, my God. What am I ever going to do with that asshole..."

**INSPIRED BY:**

**Willow: Oh! Sorry. The reflection thing that you don't have. Angel, how do you shave? **


End file.
